The painter’s brush consumes the dream

(quote by W.B.Yeats, “Two Songs from a Play”)

He is not a star for you to follow.
He is just a man walking away down the road,
the one who took the fire with him.
No. He is a son of God, a vast conception of self.
He is a wisp of air, a greatness of imagination.
He is true to his dream and will honour it forever.
There is a greatness to his style and gestures.
His arms reach out before him, to hold his dream again.
In that brief moment, he is crowned with stars
and lives in eternity’s sunrise.


A Zen moment from 1990 AD. And though, one may achieve enough dreams to have the confidence to let this poem write itself (which it did), I will add that there will be ‘troughs’, hardship, setbacks, pain, etc. since all is process anyway. Still in all, to be briefly there at various times in one’s life…

Haven’t read this in some time, but it is a mish-mash of Yeats to begin with, with some Joseph Campbell perspectives on Buddha nature in man, Wallace Stevens (cf. my earlier poem-entry “The Waking Vision”), and Great Gatsby‘s ending¬†filtered in.¬† For me, that is what the fullest achievement of dream feels/felt like. May you also be crowned with stars and live in eternity’s sunrise!

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